


think of all the troubles overcome

by zappactionsdower



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Mpreg, Not serious at all, cheese all the cheese, felix does not cope he Nopes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:35:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29581731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zappactionsdower/pseuds/zappactionsdower
Summary: No.  Anything but this.  Anything but -He opens his private sword room and stops.Every Zoltan, every Morata, every Karel is bent in half or stuck in the wall.  His Aegis Shield lies on the floor, bent to look something like a dinner plate.And there, standing innocently in the middle, clutching Felix’s Ceremonial Blade of Kyphon, is his son.  His hoof-hands wrap tight around the hilt, waiting, watching.“Don’t you dare ,” Felix warns.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 9
Kudos: 57
Collections: 2021 Dimilix Week





	think of all the troubles overcome

**Author's Note:**

> Very very brief mention of forced body modification.

The nursery is covered in deep blue fabrics and wolf-white furs, appropriate for a newborn royal. It’s warm, the first birds of spring starting to make plenty of noise outside.

Dimitri is there, leaning over the royal crib. He’s smiling - a _real_ smile, not the polite one he gives to most of the royal court.

“Don’t you want to look at him?” Dimitri asks, holding his hand out. “He has your eyes.”

Slowly Felix steps forward, drawn both by curiosity and Dimitri’s natural magnetism. It’s just a crib, after all, with their child inside. He has nothing whatsoever to be _worried_ about.

Dimitri pulls the blankets down and Felix stares - 

The boarlet snorts and sleeps soundly, its little ears twitching.

Felix wakes with a start, hand going to the knife he keeps tucked beneath his pillow.

He’s in their bedroom. It’s dawn-grey outside and the morning jays have already clustered near the balcony. 

“Felix?”

Sothis’s _tits_.

Felix dares not turn over. He and Dimitri may fall asleep in a (usually sex-induced) tangle but they always wake up back-to-back, some carryover from the war that Felix may never shake off.

But judging by the movement of the blankets and the long, tapered fingers that are currently roaming downwards, Dimitri’s rolled over, watching him, his good eye too big and blue and utterly _shameless_.

“Are you serious?” Felix huffs, ignoring the way his body warms, because unlike the king he is not some beast ruled by physical desires and really, _really_ , this is absurd. “We have a meeting this morning with Brigid’s envoys.”

“Felix - “ Dimitri all but whines which is not at all befitting for the king himself nor a warrior. Felix will not give in. He will _not._ Unlike boars (and he is not thinking of a baby boarlet in a onesie, or a boar-headed child wearing a crown, or - ) he has self-control. He has an iron will.

Five minutes later and he’s fucking into his mate, his hair strewn and already sweaty and Dimitri making the sweetest noises imaginable. Felix grips at Dimitri’s hips - soft, filled out in a way they haven’t been for many years - and he tries not to think about how badly he wants to leave little bites all over the plush skin.

Dimitri’s ever-growing belly is nestled between a stack of pillows and his head is braced between his arms. He’s more sensitive now, Felix knows, which is the entire problem.

“You’re supposed to be taking it easy,” Felix gripes between thrusts, “not baiting me into - into _sessions_. You’re too big for this now.”

“Mercedes did say regular - oh! Right there _please_ -” Dimtiri begs breathlessly as Felix hits a particular bundle of nerves - “Regular sex will help with the delivery.”

Felix groans. “Please don’t bring her into this.” Mercedes is - Felix cares about Mercedes, he really does, but he does _not_ want to think about Mercedes and sex when he’s balls-deep in his very pregnant mate.

Felix’s knot catches and locks in place and Dimitri gasps, muscles rippling as he clenches down. Felix holds on, chasing that warm high and the possessive impulse to mark Dimitri all up again.

“The sheets are ruined.” Felix grimaces and runs his hand up and down along Dimitri’s spine. He’s awake now - more than awake, and his belly grumbles for protein. 

“I don’t mind.” Dimitri turns his head to look back at Felix and - for the moment - he’s sated. “I like when it smells like us.”

Goddess.

Felix resists the urge to kiss Dimitri. He will not encourage him, absolutely not.

(Their tongues tangle together later, when Felix is fussing over Dimitri’s hair and Dimitri makes a few last-minute adjustments to Felix’s coat.)

It wasn’t supposed to be this way of course. Blaiddyds were always Alphas - from the first through Loog on to Lambert. Dimitri hadn’t presented through his teenage years and in retrospect Felix realizes it’s the Tragedy - everything wraps back to the Tragedy and it’s only now, after a continental war and having their plates full with running a whole continent that Felix finally feels like he isn’t constantly thinking about Glenn’s empty casket.

But he was going to be an Alpha and everyone knew it, everyone saw it in his poise and his authority and his strength. Even half-mad, arguing with ghosts, everyone assumed it was his Alpha genes in overdrive.

Until one day Felix ran from the chapel in a panic because Dimitri was gone, Felix was certain he’d dragged himself off to Enbarr to get himself killed (again) - 

And he’d found Dimitri hidden inside a small cavern in a forest not far from the monastery, tucked into himself and sweating and hissing in pain. Felix realized, with varying levels of shock and confusion, that Dimitri was in _heat_.

They hadn’t talked about it. They had a war to win and then a capital to rebuild and then a whole continent to be responsible for. Dimitri only mentioned, in the barest of whispers, that Cornelia had used the time between his capture and Dedue’s rescue to engage in “experiments.” Felix didn’t ask any more than that and Dimitri didn’t offer.

It didn’t matter until a year after the war’s end when a few frantic, “we may die tomorrow” kisses and handjobs turned into something more settled, more affectionate, more _real_. Felix kept insisting it didn’t matter as they’d traveled to Dimitri’s bed, over and over, until the night that Felix lost himself in Dimitri’s scent and the taste of him and Dimitri’s body had opened up so, so well. That night turned into a day, and then two, and Felix knew he’d never want another.

Three weeks later Dimitri started falling asleep during taxation meetings and going back to old habits with mechanical eating and avoiding certain meats.

Four weeks later, Felix told the healers this was _not_ just some stomach flu and requested Mercedes return to Fhirdiad to give her expert opinion.

Five weeks later Mercedes very patiently and very firmly told Felix he needed to put a claim mark on his mate before the future heir of Fodlan was declared a bastard child.

Felix doesn’t mind the whole marriage business, if he’s honest. They’d had a small ceremony tucked away in the private gardens at the castle and Sylvain arranged for a huge feast for everyone not in their immediate circle. In Faerghus, it was custom for a royal wedding to be celebrated by a month of food and dancing and the strongest Rowe vodka one could attain and Dimitri was more than happy to redirect all funds to his citizens instead of some grand noble-only event full of people Felix had to pretend to like. He'd never even entertained the notion that they could be mated and their wedding night was - perhaps more emotional than Felix allowed himself to be in quite some time. No one but Dimitri ever needed to learn about that.

He didn’t even mind the whole Omega-King business. They’d expected and planned for pushback because Alphas alone were supposed to wear crowns but the rules were different when you won a war and could crush boulders with your bare hands. Whatever protests old nobles raised were quickly quashed through Sylvain’s silver tongue or Ingrid’s temper and, failing that, the commoners themselves raised a commotion in support of their new ruler and the future royal. Dimitri knew each mayor of each town by name and wrote them letters weekly, sometimes with such mundane things as “Pass my congratulations on to your wife for her new oven. I hear paisley is very fashionable this time of year.”

The cheese business though - 

Felix is _not_ pleased with the cheese business.

“A gift from von Aegir territory.” Sylain says from his spot sprawled out at the breakfast table as Felix stares in muted disgust at the giant, smelly wheel of - brie? It’s brie. It has to be brie. Goddess, he has been learning too much about cheese ever since this whole pregnancy business started. Dimitri, even without his sense of taste intact, marvels at the smells and has _cravings_ for the damned food. In the middle of the night Felix wakes up to an empty bed and has a mild panic attack before he storms down to see his mate happily gorging on cheddars and provolones and tearfully declaring that _this_ one is quite buttery but _this_ one has berries inside. Their soups come with grated cheese on top now and Dimitri’s omelette may as well be called “giant glob of disgusting dairy with a little bit of egg covering it.”

Beside him Dimitri all but openly drools. “It’s beautiful, truly. But - I am not so sure we needed a whole wheel? On top of the ah - the gift from the Brigid delegates and the merchant’s guild.”

The merchant’s guild decided the best way to flatter a king was to send an entire wagon full of various cheeses collected from the entirety of Leicester. Brigid decided to deliver several goats with long, winding horns that climbed trees and produced, in their words, far superior cheese called _Garrotxa._

Dimitri lets the damned things reside in the gardens where the goats happily nibble on weeds and one, somehow, keeps climbing one of the larger statues of an old king.

“The entire cellar is full of cheese. As is the old Alexi wing of the castle. And my grandmother’s old visiting room. Ashe says he can’t _give_ it away anymore because every single commoner in the capital has a wheel of cheese that’s taking up room in their homes.” Felix feels his eyebrow twitch. “Where in the hell is it all coming from?”

How much of it is poisoned? Or cursed? What if Dimitri eats too much and - and turns into a cow?

“That is a good question.” Dimitri rubs his round belly absentmindedly as he fixes the brie with a look that is typically reserved only for Felix. Felix’s eyebrow twitches harder. “We could distribute it further southwards with the help of the Archbishop.” He nibbles on a carefully-cut chunk as he reads through one of the many letters attached to the horrible food. “Oh. This one is quite - nutty?” He glances down and indeed, there are little bits of walnut sticking out from its innards. “Felix, would you like to try it?”

Felix grimaces. “I’d rather eat ice cream.”

Sylvain fixes him with a curious look. Felix chooses to ignore it.

The meetings are another issue. Felix hates meetings in general - he’s not one for pretty words and he views every noble that didn’t support them in the war with a healthy amount of paranoia. But Dimitri has moments of, according to Mercedes, _Baby Brain_ and so he's not as sharp with the malcontents as he should be. They have a partnership - Dimitri tries to settle things peaceably and fairly, Felix snarls and snaps and bares his teeth at those who refuse to get the hint that the king’s word is law. 

He’s not worried that Dimitri will make mistakes - not with Felix there, but Dimitri does let his attention drift. Felix can’t help but be terse as they go over tax proposals and border disputes and some random old man from Adrestia tries to wheedle his way out of something or other.

Dimitri’s too happy right now. Too unguarded, even as Felix loses more and more of his carefully-retrained patience. All it takes is one lord to smell weakness and they’ll have a rebellion on their hands or worse, someone that starts getting the idea that they should usurp the king outright.

Felix loses his temper within roughly two hours because of some small-time lord from the outskirts of Enbarr prattling on about _tradition_ and how certain outsiders like one Brigid delegation would not accept a ruler of such low status. 

Felix knows a threat when he hears it, even as Dimitri politely dismisses it and tries to turn the subject to new avenues of diplomacy.

Felix slams his fist down and summons each and every impulse of his Alpha instinct to tear anyone apart who dared threaten his mate and his - his

(not a boarlet by the Goddess _not a boarlet_ ).

The air grows very tense. Felix can smell the other pheromones' as a few of the Alphas present react - some ridiculous _pissing contest_ that he will win, by words or by steel he doesn’t care - 

Dimitri grips his hand tightly - too tightly. Felix turns, startled to see sweat on his temples.

“Please excuse us.” Slowly, awkwardly, Dimitri moves out of his chair to stand up. He keeps an iron grip on Felix’s hand and all but drags him away.

Fhirdiad Castle is far different from when they were young. The war hollowed out most of the long-gained treasures and very little decor remains save for what they could save in hidden-away treasuries deep inside many a locked door that only a Blaiddyd had the strength to open. Most of the portraits over the centuries were defaced; many of the more valuable ornaments are gone, likely to never be recovered. 

The king’s study was relocated to something smaller - a place Felix has grown intimately familiar with (and might have used a few times to be intimate _with_ the king, not that Sylvain or anyone else needs to know) and is often the shared space where they can let down all the barriers that come from governance.

They fight in this room, buffeted by thick stone and plush carpet. They unwind in this room, curled together on the large sofa long enough to fit a Blaiddyd. They spend countless hours reviewing edicts and laws and treaties, looking for even the smallest damaging loophole. They are honest with one another in a way that they rarely allow anyone else to see.

Felix’s hackles rise, still on guard, still painfully aware of Dimitri.

Dimitri grimaces and settles down on the sofa. It takes him a moment to find a comfortable position and his expression briefly contorts with an odd expression Felix sees more often lately. “Felix - “

“It’s not hurting you is it?” Months ago neither of them had even been sure Dimitri _could_ carry a child. Especially with how thin he’d been during - during that time. It had taken _months_ to get Dimitri back to a healthy weight and even healthier diet. “You’re not - “

“No more than usual.” Dimitri’s brows furrow together. “I do believe I will need to get fitted again soon.”

Goddess. The clothes. Dimitri gets so horny he tears sheets and shirts in equal measure. The tailor even asked if it was simply easier to wrap a blanket around him day in and out than constantly try to adjust his wardrobe.

(“Absolutely not.” Felix hissed at the time and a part of him wondered if it was simply some hindbrain possessive streak making itself known again, given how often he still fixates on Dimitri’s naked skin when they’re alone.). 

“I can’t help but notice you have been - “ Dimitri starts as diplomatically as he can.

“Don’t you dare say _protective_.” Felix is not - he’s not some fool of an Alpha and he has every reason to be extra on guard. Dimitri’s too damn big to fight himself right now.

“I was going to say testy.” Dimitri pats the edge of the sofa. “I do not mind if you are short-tempered with me - I recognize I dese - “

“Don’t start with that.” Felix scowls. “I wanted action, not self-flagellation.”

Dimitri blushes. Felix resists the urge to bite him. 

“Still, perhaps making an enemy of the Adrestian nobility is perhaps not the best way to express your agitation right now?”

“Who said I’m agitated?!” Felix bristles. “I’m not the one carrying around a _boarlet_ and turning into a cheese monster.” Felix catches himself with a grimace. “That’s not - “

He braces himself. Dimitri’s prone to emotions but he gets watery now. He cries at stupid stories about someone else’s childhood and _feels_ too much.

And there it is - the slightest quiver of his lips, the way his blue eye clouds up. Instead though, Dimitri breathes through it and nods.

“I did not consult with you on this. I know it but - “

“You didn’t consult with yourself either.” Felix sighs and slumps into the couch a few inches away from Dimitri. “This is ridiculous.”

“Perhaps you can take a few days off from the council meetings. It will be riding weather soon.”

“And let those wolves devour you?” Felix glowers. “Absolutely not.”

“I am not helpless you know.” Dimitri balls his hand into a fist. “I can still break tables.”

A horrible, awful thought creeps into Felix’s mind. “When did your crest begin to manifest?”

Dimitri tilts his head, curious. “I don’t remember.”

Felix groans.

“I will assure you none of my line died from kicking. Although I am told my great-great-aunt did once shatter an entire wall during her first steps towards - “

“Stop talking. No more talking.”

Felix wakes to the sound of smashed metal. He runs through their private wing, unaware of anything or anyone that should be awake at this hour. A deep feeling of utter dread fills him as he hears another crash, then another.

No. Anything but this. Anything but - 

He opens his private sword room and stops.

Every Zoltan, every Morata, every Karel is bent in half or stuck in the wall. His Aegis Shield lies on the floor, bent to look something like a dinner plate.

And there, standing innocently in the middle, clutching Felix’s Ceremonial Blade of Kyphon, is his son. His hoof-hands wrap tight around the hilt, waiting, watching.

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” Felix warns.

His child makes a pig snort, narrows its little brown-boar eyes, and _squeezes_.

Dimitri pre-emptively bans him from the council meeting and politely (and very firmly) asks him to escort Mercedes on cheese distribution.

The war left many children parentless and few resources for them besides banditry. Dimitri spent many months working with the Archbishop, Yuri, and Mercedes to recruit as many orphans as they could in Fodlan’s reconstruction. For the younger ones though, the Archbishop and Seteth took charge in providing what housing they could.

There are a lot of orphans in Fhirdiad and even more as refugees pile in for some sense of stability. Sothis only knows what the city will look like in a few decades.

Felix still feels naturally twitchy when he walks down the long main street towards the lower districts. Fhirdiad is busy - Fhirdiad is always busy now and the city is full of the sound of shouting merchants and construction work.

It’s a good way to hide assassins. To hide dark mages that Hapi and Lysithea are still ferreting out.

Especially with as exposed as he is, walking next to a huge horse and a cart full of cheese wheels.

“How is he?” Mercedes asks demurely beside him. She’s carrying a shopping bag and several scrolls, presumably to drop off at the nearest orphanage. “I imagine he’s quite excited.”

“He’s - “ Felix does not think about the horny mornings or the horny nights or the late-night cravings. “Energetic.”

“That’s good.” She looks at him, her eyes too sharp. “How are you feeling?”

Felix isn’t sure how to answer. He doesn’t - he doesn’t know _how_ to feel. He’s never thought about children and Dimitri - even for the strongest of Omegas there are risks in childbirth. There are risks in being the king. 

And a child is a target. Kidnapping, assassination attempts, mishandling swords - 

“I’m told that most Alpha fathers are a little overprotective. Don’t tell me you’re planning to drag Dimitri to a cave.” Mercedes laughs at her own joke but he can tell she’s genuinely serious.

And in some ways, it… doesn’t sound like a bad idea.

“I’m his Shield.” Felix turns towards the large building that serves as the current orphanage. The children there stand up, watching owlishly as the famed Fraldarius of the war approaches. “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?”

Dedue and Sylvain are huddled in the future nursery when Felix returns. They have various boards lined up and Felix growls on principle at someone being in his and his mate’s space and littering it with _mess_.

“Hello Felix.” Dedue says, completely impervious to Felix’s ire. Felix doesn’t hate him exactly but - it’s he might be a _little_ perturbed about how close Dedue is to Dimitri. They write letters to one another in flowery handwriting and Dedue keeps sending Dimitri handmade baby outfits and little toys.

“We’re making a crib.” Sylvain says as he picks up a hammer. 

“We have a crib.” Felix jabs his thumb at the still-covered crib in the corner, taken directly from the Fraldarius estate. 

“Felix, it has dent marks in it.” Sylvain says patiently, not even bothering to look up. “And I’m pretty sure Glenn broke the railing in two spots.”

“It’s been in my family for four generations.”

“Which means four generations of termites have nibbled on it.”

Dedue hums quietly in affirmation.

“So - you thought about names yet?” Sylvain asks as he holds two boards up for Dedue to attach together.

“We don’t even know if it’s a girl or a boy.”

“Then you think of two.”

Dimitri has books - lots of them from Ashe and Annette - full of names and baby facts and ridiculous things like inspirational stories of Omegahood. They’re all stacked up in corners of their bedroom and Felix grouses when Dimtiri stays up late and starts straining his eye.

Dedue looks at him again - really looks.

“Sylvain, may I have a moment alone?” Dedue rests his hand against another piece of board.

Sylvain looks up between them both. He stretches, his spine popping in the quiet afternoon. “Yeah. I’m going to get some water anyhow.” Sylvain brushes past Felix and lightly bats his hip. “Play nice, okay Felix?”

Felix sniffs.

The room is too quiet without Sylvain. Even when he’s not making noise, there’s something about the other that draws energy and sound.

“Could you please help me with the nails, Duke Consort?”

Felix clicks his tongue. He settles down on the floor and gathers together the small bits of metal. “I don’t - I don’t care if you call me Felix you know.”

“Apologies.” Another thing that makes him grumpy about Dimitri and Dedue together. Together they’d offer platitudes to half the continent for stupid things that they aren’t responsible for. “Could I have a nail?”

Felix hands one over and keeps his grip steady. Now that he looks closely, it truly is nice wood. It’s Fhirdiad mahogany, cut from the sturdiest trees along the Sreng border. Even Dimtiri has difficulty bending it.

“We have a story in Duscur about one of our lesser gods. His name was Gabbro and he was said to be a famed warrior that often did battle with the beasts in the earth and the sky..” Dedue gently tapped the nail into place and adjusted another board. “Gabbro had a wife that he was particularly fond of - he’d rescued her from a nest of black stone trolls and carried her back to his village.”

“Trolls? The kind that live under bridges?” It had been ages since Felix read a fairy tale and the only ones he remembered with some clarity were the ones Ashe kept sharing with excited mentions.

“In Duscur, they are beasts of stone that cannot stand the light. Gabbro’s wife, thanks to her imprisonment, had a very weak constitution. Gabbro spent all his time looking for dangers that would threaten her.”

“Sounds ridiculous.”

“It could be. He even built walls up and went out to destroy beasts so that she could live in peace.” Dedue pauses, fixing Felix with another stare. “Yet for all that he turned his gaze outwards, he forgot that time is not something you can fight off. His wife grew old and his only child did not know him. He had been so afraid of what was outside that he did not have a chance to be happy.”

Felix rests his head against the largest board and breathes. “I’m not building any stupid walls.”

“But you are quite afraid. As we all are.” Dedue hammers another nail into place. “Still, should this not be a happy time?”

“If you like cheese.” Felix is - he can’t help it. He’s lost Dimitri twice. He can’t settle. And another Dimitri - one that is small and helpless and _his_ \- that can be ripped away as easy as a fox enters a henhouse, he can’t - 

He can’t stop himself from thinking about it.

Dedue hums again. “Ashe had an idea for cheese on bread with tomato paste in the middle. It sounds quite strange but I am curious as to what it would taste like.”

“He’s putting cheese on his steak. His _steak_.” Felix shudders. “He cried at Mercedes’ peach pie and ate the whole thing.”

“That is good. Peach is quite healthy.” 

“He goes to the servant’s kitchen in the middle of the night without a guard. One cook thought we had giant mice nibbling on her pastries.” Felix groans. “It’s undignified.”

“Very.”

Felix doesn’t feel better that night. But he does feel calmer.

Dimitri, for once, is in bed at a time Felix finds acceptable. Usually they have late hours, always having to meet with some dingitary or settle a dispute or take private meetings with their most trusted allies.

Dimitri looks up as Felix tosses a terribly-wrapped package at him. He turns it over and over, hesitantly running his fingers along the ribbon. Felix doesn’t speak and instead works on undressing himself.

“It’s not a dagger?” Dimitri gently shakes the package. “Or a weapon.”

Felix decides to only pull on a pair of light pants and a thin shirt. Dimitri’s likely to have them off soon anyway, given his absurd sex drives. “You can open it.”

Dimitri unwraps it, still managing to tear the ribbon. The gift turns out to be a stuffed piglet sewn onto a small, quilted blanket.

“My aunt.” Felix slips into bed and moves close, resting his head against Dimitri’s shoulder. His hand goes to the huge swell of his stomach. If Felix focuses, he can almost feel movement beneath the skin.

It’s weird. 

But it’s not _bad_ exactly.

Dimitri smiles at him and nuzzles into his hair, taking in the scent. “I know you’re concerned about my well-being but I do promise I am being as careful as I can. I - I suppose I’m just happy. Ever since the Tragedy… I have thought my body unfit for anything but destruction. To be able to bring life... “ Felix can almost hear the tears start to form. “It’s truly a blessing I was not expecting at all.”

“Well.” Felix looks away and forces himself to _not_ get all Alpha over it. “Let’s just do our best to give them a good world.”

“Them?”

Felix bats him - gently. “You’re going to want more. I _know_ you.”

Dimitri doesn’t hide his blush. “I would not be against it. Or - “ His hand drifts down, eyebrows waggling suggestively.

“That whole ‘sex helps with delivery’ is bullshit.” Felix grumbles as he starts sliding the blankets away. 

It’s not bullshit.

Their child is born at the onset of Faerghus summer, right when the red beetles start clicking and the white herons descend into the warmer lakes. It’s cause for celebration and apparently even more cheese being delivered to the castle. 

Felix is grateful that Mercedes had the presence of mind to request Dimitri use one of the old beds in the old wing as it’s a messy, destructive affair. Felix doesn’t dare give Dimitri his _actual_ hand but he’s there all the same, wiping the sweat away from his mate’s forehead and temples and fussing at the nursemaids.

The child howls and howls and Dimitri cries and maybe Felix gets a little teared up too. But at least the little boy is fully human with no pig snouts to be found.

“Felix?” Dimitri mumbles later, still exhausted from labor.

“What is it?” Felix keeps a close eye on them both. They’re officially on a two-week long break while Sylvain and Ferdinand and Lorenz manage court. It’s going to be an utter disaster when they return.

“I went to get the Faerghus Founding Sword from your private store room. For the official ceremony, of course.” Dimitri coos at the baby - _their_ baby - fresh and perfect and sound asleep safely between his parents.

Felix twitches.

“Where are all your weapons?”

“I have no idea.” Felix lies. “It’s a fool’s tradition to give a weapon to a child anyway.”

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Okay but - but hear me out.  
> What if Dimitri was the O this time?
> 
> Sorry - this was supposed to be tomorrow's but it kind of fits today and work caught up with me so - y'know.


End file.
